


The Lionhearted

by lionheartedbeings



Category: Electronic Dance Music RPF
Genre: Anarchists, Anarchy, Apocalypse, F/F, Flicker, Futuristic, M/M, Pixel Empire, Portgo - Freeform, Post-Apocalypse, RPF, Shelter, i have no control of my life help, icarus - Freeform, lionhearted, lionhearted au, welcome 2 hell
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-16
Updated: 2018-07-30
Packaged: 2018-12-02 20:15:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11516643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lionheartedbeings/pseuds/lionheartedbeings
Summary: Prophecies told of the Lionhearted, who would arise and knock the Pixel Empire to it's knees by defeating Icarus. They never thought that Icarus and the Lionheart would become allies.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is really important to me and is a huge huge project. I'm really excited about this. I hope you guys like it as much as I do.

_It’s finally the end. It’s the end of 200 years of war on the remains of the planet._

_Thousands of years have passed since the rising of the seas. Smaller dwellings are crippled without technology, while big cities thrive with what remains of the power supplies. The big cities are what keep this dull existence of living entertaining. Tall, tall buildings line the skyline, a colorless, bleak wall against the pale colors of the sky. At night, the city lights up with the thousands of lights, but remain gray and colorless. The people who live there are the most interesting. The cities comprise of the rich Elite Class of the Empire and the Lower Classes. The days are filled with the Lower Classes working, while the Elite relax in their penthouse apartments, shop, and carry out other leisurely activities. The dull days extend into fun-filled nights as the Elites go out on the town to party, eat, and drink, while the Lower Classes serve them. Lower Classes are not to be served, but serve the Elite. The city lights up with thousands of lights, all bright and shimmering as they illuminate a trashy and desolate city. This is how every day goes. This is how the Pixel Empire functions._

_The Pixel Empire formed at the beginning of the end, keeping a firm grip on humanity for these thousands of years. Ending the 200 Year War is a small feat compared to keeping the remaining population unified under one banner. There is some dissent, especially outside of the larger cities. However, few people live outside of the cities, only those who are not fit to live in the cities. They are usually the weak, undesired, and lowest of the Lower Classes. There is not much to fear in the Pixel Empire. Everyone is safe and happy. Everyone loves it there._

_For now._


	2. Ch. 1: Happy Birthday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Porter has a pretty bad 18th Birthday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so much for the support just on the prologue alone! I hope you enjoy this chapter. Any criticism or advice, or even suggestions are welcome! :D
> 
> xoxo ~

**_Pixel City, the Capitol, July 15, 7700_ **

Porter Robinson woke up, already pissed off. The sunlight streamed through his window at exactly 4am, as it did every morning, somehow. He rolled over and buried himself deeper in his sheets, wanting to die.

 _Fuck._ He thought. His head was splitting. He had done some things the night before that were… regrettable. He knew that if anyone found out, he’d be punished severely. Lower Classes were not allowed to attend parties, much less have alcohol. Or interact with Elites other than to serve them.

 _I guess what I did could have been serving… if you think about it as a favor._ He thought with a small bit of hope bubbling up in his chest. Interacting with the Elites was one thing, but grinding on one of them on the dance floor, drunk beyond belief, was another thing.

He rolled out of bed, grumbling all the while. _How do I let Dillon drag me into these things so easily? Why couldn’t he have waited until tonight?_ It was his birthday today. Not that it mattered. Since he was a Lower Class, he wasn’t allowed to celebrate. At least, not publicly.

Porter brushed his teeth and jumped in his filthy shower, hoping the last bit of soap he had would wash off last night’s mistakes. He reminded himself that he needs to go shopping the next time he was allowed to – he was almost out of food and toiletries again.

He got out of the shower and looked around the bathroom. Mildew was running rampant in the small room, and the fixtures were crusted with rust. The linoleum floors were peeling up and cracked. He had found several dead cockroaches only a couple days before. Even though he was in the bathroom, the whole place smelled of old fish and cooking oil. The building hadn’t been updated since the beginning of the war, which had just ended, much to Porter’s relief. He was finally 18, and he didn’t want to deal with being forced into the army.

Porter hated life in the city. Everyone else seemed to be content. There was safety in the city from what roamed out in the wilderness. There was safety from the other, weaker empires. There was safety from reality. Porter hated that. He hated that everything they did was dictated for them. Lower Classes were treated horribly and constantly given orders, but even the Elite had rules to follow.

It was all put in place by the leader of the Pixel Empire at the beginning of the war, Emperor Pierre Leclercq. His great-great grandson and current leader of the Empire, Emperor Louis Leclercq, only strengthened those laws, enforcing stricter laws on the Lower Classes.

Porter felt the anger rising in him and he had to take a couple deep breaths to calm himself down. It was important that he remained level-headed when he went into work, or else people would be suspicious of him. Not that they weren’t already.

Porter had a reputation of being… rebellious. It sounded edgy and he hated it, but it was true. In school, he always was in trouble for disagreeing with the textbooks (which were edited to make the Empire look better), fighting with the other kids, and occasionally fighting with teachers. Despite this, he still managed to graduate with the highest grades in his class. His brother, Nick, assumed he hadn’t been kicked out for that sole reason, and Porter hated to admit it, but Nick was probably right. He was always right.

Porter sighed and got dressed. He still had about half an hour before work would begin. He headed down the stairs to the kitchen. Mat, his roommate, was already eating breakfast and reading the newspaper. His chipped porcelain teacup was filled to the brim, indicating it was a rough morning for him too.

“Hey Mat. Sleep well?” Porter asked, filling the coffee machine with water.

“Better than usual. I feel like shit still. You?” Mat asked.

“I feel like I got shot in the head.”

“Yeah, your first hangover usually does. You shouldn’t have drank that much.”

“How was I supposed to know? I’ve never had any sort of alcohol before. I didn’t know what it does to you. I just thought it tasted weird, but it made me feel all tingly and happy.”

Mat sighed. “I thought I warned you before we went that it was not to be consumed in mass amounts.”

Porter shrugged and sat, waiting for his coffee to finish.

Mat’s family used to be Elites, but they were forced to become Lower Class when his father was killed in the war. Mat had been in the army, since he was 2 years older than Porter, but he didn’t really see any combat. Mat knew the ins and outs of the Elite life, but did not really miss it. He was a simple man. He liked tea, cats, and reading. That was about it. Porter could understand why Mat didn’t like the Elite life. From the party he had illegally attended last night, he was sure he didn’t want to be in with the whole lifestyle. He just wanted to be treated like a regular human being like the Elites were.

Porter’s coffee finished and he pulled a couple chipped cups from the cabinet. “Mat, you want any?”

Mat didn’t answer. He was looking with horror at the article in front of him. Porter walked over with his mug and looked at the heading, alarm spreading in his chest.

_Lower Class Workers Break into Party: Perpetrators Not Found_

And he was in the picture. He was very blurry, very covered by the mask that Dillon insisted he wore (which he was now grateful for). But he could tell it was him.

“I hope your escapades were worth it.” Mat said bitingly.

“I mean, it was just a party –“

Mat barked out half a laugh. “You think I didn’t see you when you were dancing? Everyone did. The way that you two were dancing, I thought you were gonna go home with him.”

“What if he reports me?” Porter’s voice became hushed with panic. He sat down, since he could feel his chest beginning to heave with the thought. What would they do to him?

“I dunno. We’re the first group of people to try it. We’re probably all gonna get caught.” Mat looked dejected. “It would’ve been fine if Dillon hadn’t opened his stupid mouth to that German boy.”

“Dillon can’t control half the shit he says. It just comes out. He drinks too much to control it, I guess. I don’t even want to know how he gets the stuff.” Porter sniffed, taking a swig of his coffee, trying to settle his nerves.

He spit it out almost immediately, all over the table. “What the fuck!”

Mat raised an eyebrow.

“Is there something wrong with the water?”

“I dunno, my tea is fine, Porter.”

“Ugh, whatever.” Porter dumped his coffee out into the sink. “I gotta go to work. I’ll see you at 4:30? I’m baking a cake tonight ‘cause I wanna feel special.”

“Yeah. I’ll tell Dillon to come over. Maybe Sonny can make it tonight? I dunno. Everyone’s busy lately.” Mat responded, not looking up from his paper.

“Alright. Can you feed Zorro?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re the best Mat.” Porter called before shutting the door and heading to work.

 

Porter worked in retail. He was a sales clerk at the local superstore, reminiscent of the old store they had back in the 2000s that he remembered from history class, Target. There hadn’t been a store similar to it since the beginning of the Pixel Empire back in the year 3010 AD but Louis Leclercq had brought the stores back, claiming it was a way for Elites and Lower Classes to both buy cheaper products. The idea had caused some controversy but was so widely admired by the Lower Classes and many Elites that they had kept them. The stores were called Louis’s in honor of the Emperor who had brought them back.

Porter didn’t have a car, since Lower Classes usually didn’t make enough money to have them, so he walked to work, humming and taking in the early morning air. He made up songs on the way, ones he would never get to hear other than by himself. Music was an ancient art that was only recently forbidden by the Pixel Empire. Creativity and individuality were thought to create a push against unity. After all, if everyone is different, how can the people remain united? Arts were only used for decor and interior design for Elites. Any other people using or creating arts were punished severely. All crimes were punished severely in the Empire.

Finally, Porter reached Louis’s. He unlocked the front door, turned on the lights, and started up the old computer system that ran the place.

“Welcome back, Porter Robinson.” The room said. Porter hated it. He hated a lot of things about work. The computerized building was just the tip of the iceberg. It liked to crack jokes about coding that Porter never understood and if he didn’t make quick actions within the program itself, it would shut down, and he would have to reboot the system again.

The room was a dull gray, with an industrial flooring (also gray), and lights that hung from a gray ceiling. The room was more of a warehouse size, with food, clothing, furniture, home goods, and everything anyone could ever want. Porter didn’t like it very much. It was too clean, too sterile, and too dull. Too cold.

Color wasn’t common in stores anyways. Colors brought emotion. Emotions were supposed to be guarded during the day. Interact with others when necessary. Don’t make eye contact. Let the Elites through first for everything. Elites were distinguishable by flashy accessories, badges, or expensive clothing. In school, they had been taught how to speak to Elites, and how to recognize them, so that they would not offend their superiors.

Porter shook himself from his thinking. He had a job to do. He went to stock shelves to pass the time, but something kept nagging at him. He couldn’t think straight, especially with the dumb hangover headache. _Why did I do that to myself last night?_

A couple of his co-workers came in and Porter sighed with relief that he would not be the only one manning the store for the day. Sometimes he was. There were a few customers who came and went. Louis’s didn’t get much business in the mornings because people were still sleeping in from all the partying they did the night prior, and Lower Classes were running the stores the Elites would be shopping in.

But then Anton Zaslavski walked in and Porter shook with fear. Anton was one of the people from the party last night. He was the German boy that Dillon had accidentally given away their identities to. He would know it was Porter who was on the front of the magazine. He was an Elite and a good friend of the Emperor’s son, Hugo Leclercq.

Porter had never actually seen Hugo before, only rumors of him.

In fact, very few people had seen Hugo Leclercq before. The Emperor liked to hide him from the public eye, for fear he would be identified by terrorists or influenced by outside sources. He was only 16, but apparently quite the intellectual. He had impressed many visitors of the Pixel Empire with his intellectual and physical prowess. As a younger boy, he had been caught making music, a criminal offense. It was quite a scandal, but he was let off the hook for being the sheltered child of their beloved Emperor. It was immediately covered up by the government and only remembered by those who had heard the news.

Porter quickly threw on his working apron and covered his hair with a hat hoping it would be enough to make Anton believe he was not the same person. He walked back to his stand at the checkout, slightly shaking with fear.

“Hey Porter!” His friend Anna called out from her station.

“Hey Anna. What’s new with you?” Porter asked, knowing fully well she had attended the party with him last night.

“Not much. Just read a really fascinating article last night. You should too, you know, since we don’t have books anymore.”

Porter knew fully well that she and Rezz both had books still, somehow. They read them and let their friends borrow them. Porter had read books from the year 1800 and been beyond fascinated at the antiquated language.

(Mat hadn’t been impressed. “I’ve read better in the news.” He said.)

“I’ll have to read it sometime.” Porter said, glad to have the conversation. He also loved Anna’s book suggestions. He just had no idea where she got them, and to be honest he didn’t want to know.

If he was completely honest, he didn’t want to know where any of his friends got their shit, because the less he knew, the safer he was.

Much to Porter’s dismay, Anton checked out with him, despite Anna’s presence being much more welcoming and warm. Porter tried not to let him see he was shaking.

“Do I know you?” Anton asked.

_Fuck fuck fuck fuck no._ _No no no no no._

Porter pretended not to hear him and scanned the carton of milk.

“You. Answer the question. Do I know you?” Anton asked more forcefully.

Porter looked at him with wide eyes, acting like he had actually not heard him the first time, “No, I’m sorry, sir! I’m not Elite, so I don’t know how you’d get that impression.”

“You look an awful lot like someone I know.” Anton said, puzzled.

“Maybe you know me from visiting here? I’m here pretty much every day, sir.” Porter rambled.

“I don’t come here often. But perhaps. You don’t have much of a memorable face.” Anton raised an eyebrow.

It was true though. Porter had one of the regulation haircuts, with short sides and a longer top, brown hair, brown eyes, and an average body.

After a moment of staring, Anton took his purchases and left the building.

Porter let out a sigh of relief.

“That was a close call, Porty boy.” Dillon’s voice called out from across the store.

“When the fuck did you get here?” Porter said, jumping with surprise.

“Nice to see you too.” Dillon snorted, coming and leaning up against Porter’s counter.

“So. Did you get the number of that boy you were grinding on?”

“Why does everyone keep bringing that up?” Porter grumbled, shifting his weight uncomfortably.

“I dunno. You came out of your shell for that. I’m sure you didn’t violate many laws though.” Dillon cut off with a chuckle. “After the kind of work you did on that guy, I’d say he owes you money.”

“Whatever that’s supposed to mean.” Porter muttered. He knew fairly well what Dillon was talking about but he didn’t want to give Dillon the satisfaction of knowing he was upset. It seemed Dillon was satisfied with that response anyways.

“We’ll talk about it later.” Dillon said with a wink and went back to stocking shelves.

Porter groaned in frustration as his headache got stronger. Dillon always gave him a headache.

 

A couple more customers came in before the shop closed that day. One of which happened to be a frequent customer, a man who only went by the name Joel. He was from a state of the Empire called Canada. It was across the seas from the place where Porter was from, the territory of North Carolina in the state of America. Joel had a reputation for being an asshole to customers, however, and Porter was not glad to see him.

“Good afternoon sir!” Anna called out.

“Don’t speak to me, please.” Joel snapped. “I don’t need another irritation today.”

“As you wish, sir.” Anna said, turning to face Porter and making a face. Porter hid a grin behind his hand.

An elderly woman also came in at the same time. Porter had never seen her before.

“Welcome, ma’am. Is there anything I can help you with today?”

“Yes, actually. I can’t push a cart. You will carry my things.” She said.

 _Great. She’s just like the rest of them._ Porter thought, grabbing a cart and escorting the woman down the aisles.

“I need those.” The woman pointed uselessly at a row of frozen corn. There were several brands, so Porter reached for their most popular seller.

“Not _those_ you idiot.” She snapped.

Porter reached for another.

“No.”

And another. “No!”

After much hassle, he finally found the right brand. The old woman sighed. “Let’s go.”

She wasn’t a very helpful customer. She kept pointing in the general direction of things and then expecting him to get it, grumbling obscenities all the while.

Finally, Porter reached a breaking point. After fumbling with 5 different bottles of wine, she muttered, “I guess they’ll hire any Lower Class, as long as they have the ability to move. Do you even have a brain, boy? Are you in there?”

She began to make tapping gestures at her head.

“Actually ma’am I’ve been having a tough time because you’re not cooperative. I graduated top of my class back in school and I would’ve had a degree, if it wasn’t for our bullshit system. I can’t get an education because I’m not Elite. I can’t get a better job because I was told from birth I would fail, by a government system that doesn’t care about me. So thank you for making my life another day of hell.” Porter smiled, rolling her cart to the front of the store.

She stood there in shock before she found her voice. “Security!”

_Goddamn it._

One of the security robots rolled up to her and she explained the situation. The computer program kicked in.

“Worker ID: 7738473 Robinson, please report to the back room.”

Porter glared at the old woman as he walked towards the back, his feet heavy. He saw her heading to check out with Dillon before he entered the room.

He sat down in the chair, knowing what was coming. “ID 7738473 do you testify to the following charges: harassing a customer?”

Porter knew if he didn’t say yes, it would be worse for him.

“Yes.” He said, with a slight tremble to his voice.

“Again?” The computer sighed. “Push the red button.”

Porter hated this. He hated the system. The system is what did this. The system that used fear to control the people. The system like this. He pushed the red button. He could do nothing else.

“Please proceed according to Procedure 3.”

Porter sighed and got up, walking to another room. Within it was another button.

“Please use the following station. After securing the cord, press the button.”

He wrapped a nearby metal cord around his wrist and pushed the button.

Porter’s vision blacked with the first bout of pain. His knees buckled and he grabbed the table for support.

“Push the button.”

Porter pushed it again, this time, screaming.

“Push the button.”

It went on for some time like this. Finally it stopped. He was shaking. He didn’t know how they programmed these machines, but it caused serious damage. He got up off his knees from the ground and unwound the cord.

“ID 7738473, will you harass a customer again?”

Porter couldn’t speak. His throat felt raw and his ears were ringing.

“ID 7738473, please answer the question. Will you harass a customer again?”

“No.” Porter’s voice cracked.

“Return to work.”

 

Porter practically ran home from work that day. His ears were still ringing and he had a horrible headache. Before he left, he picked up what he needed for groceries, since no one was there to witness him shopping on a day that he wasn’t supposed to. Anna and Dillon were his friends and they wouldn’t rat him out. Besides, they were going to be eating some of the food he bought anyways. He hoped it was worth it. It cost him almost his whole paycheck just to get food for the week.

“Hey Mat, I’m back.” Porter called. Zorro came running to his feet almost immediately.

“Hey puppo! How are you? Did ya miss me?” Porter said in his voice reserved solely for dogs. He knelt down and rubbed the top of Zorro’s head and cooed at him affectionately. He got up and began to make the cake, hoping that nothing else would go wrong for his birthday.

“I called Dillon and he said Sonny can’t make it, but Anna and Rezz are coming for sure. Dillon said he might make it. Dunno about anyone else.” Mat said, walking into the room and leaning against the door frame.

“Thanks.” Porter said dully, cracking some eggs.

“You okay?” Mat asked.

“I blew up at a customer.” Porter answered through his teeth, stirring the batter aggressively.

Mat came up and touched his shoulder. “I can talk to some people if you want me to make –“

“It’s fine Mat. It’s done. I won’t do it again.”

“I know you too well Porter. You’re probably going to do it again tomorrow.” Mat said softly, and went back into the other room with his cat to read.

 

Dillon arrived first, banging on the door loudly. Porter opened the door, still wearing his cooking apron with his forehead sweating from the heat of the kitchen.

“Well don’t you look like a house wife.” Dillon laughed, walking past Porter into the kitchen. “Smells good. Mat, you’re one lucky dude!”

“Oh my God Dillon, shut the fuck up.” Porter said, pulling the apron over his head.

“Right, right, gotta save yourself for that boy… I have no clue who the HELL he was. I’d never seen him before.”

“Shut. Up.” Porter spat.

“As if you know every Elite in town.” Mat said, entering the kitchen.

“I know quite a few, thank you.” Dillon snorted  
There were a few seconds of quiet tension in the room. Mat and Dillon did not get along very well due to Dillon’s tendency to get their group into more trouble than they bargained for. Porter rolled his eyes in frustration and went to check on his cake.

A more polite knock came from the door as Rezz and Anna arrived. Dillon rushed over and opened the door with a flourish. “Welcome, Madams.”

Rezz was not impressed but Anna gave him a smile of sympathy.

“Hey Rezz! How are you?” Porter called from the oven. He pulled the cake out and walked over to greet the girls. Mat stood behind him, awkwardly.

“I’m as good as I can be.” She smiled. “That cake smells delicious!”

“Thanks.” Porter grinned. “You guys can go sit in the living room if you want.”

“I’ll make some tea.” Mat said, grabbing the kettle.

“Sounds perfect.” Dillon agreed, pushing into the living room. The room was small and barely had enough room for a dirty, stained couch on equally dirty carpet and a very small, ancient TV.

“I thought maybe we could play some games, if you guys want.” Porter said, pulling out the ancient Wii console.

“You still _have_ one of those?” Anna exclaimed in surprise. Rezz looked puzzled.

“Yeah. Nick got it for me.” Porter explained. “They’re still fabricating DDR discs as well.”

“Holy shit, no way!”

“Tea’s ready!” Mat called, bringing the tray in to the cramped space.

The five finally decided on a game, taking turns, as they only had two remotes. Porter felt the stress of work finally melting away. He smiled. He laughed. He felt… happy.

“Hey, guys, I’m gonna get the cake.” Porter finally said, handing the remote to Mat.

Porter felt dread wash over him as soon as he stepped into the kitchen. He couldn’t explain why. He felt like when he was a kid and could see shapes moving in the dark. He felt like he was going to fall dead to the floor. He shivered.

The others came into the kitchen and crowded around as he went to take the first slice out. No sooner had he cut into the cake did the door to their apartment start banging.

“Hey, Sonny made it after all!” Dillon exclaimed, grinning.  
  
Porter rushed to answer the door, smiling, but Dillon beat him to it.

“Oh.” Dillon murmured.

Outside the door were several armed men. They shoved Dillon out of the way roughly and he fell back against the wall, breathing heavily. 

“Where is he?” The first man yelled  
  
“Where is who?” Mat demanded.

The second man pulled his rifle from over his shoulder and aimed it at Mat. “You know who I’m talking about.”

A third man looked at the 5 of them, surveying their faces. “It’s _him,_ ” he said, pointing at Porter.

Porter ran. He could hear the others screaming his name and the guards clambering after him through the cramped house. He didn’t know where he was going. He just needed to get away. They _found_ him and he didn’t know how.

“ID 7738473, you are under arrest. Reveal yourself!”

Porter was lying under his bed, shaking. He didn’t really care what was on the floor at that point. He could smell mold, animals, and rot, but he didn’t care.

They were going to find him anyways, it was inevitable.  
Suddenly the safety of the bed was ripped away as one of the men _flipped the bed over_ and Porter was exposed to them. One of them grabbed his arm roughly.

“No!” he screamed, punching his captor. His hand glowed purple and the guard fell, his arm burnt and bleeding.

“The hell?” another man yelled.

Porter didn’t care. He ran for the front room.

“ _It’s him! It’s the Lionheart!_ ” he heard one of the men yell from behind him. Porter’s blood ran cold.

_No…_

He tripped and fell, his vision turning completely black. He tried to get up, but he couldn’t. He looked in front of him and saw Mat, Dillon, Rezz, and Anna, looking terrified at him. He screamed in pain as the men began hitting him and he tried to hit them with his purple hand. Finally one of the guards hit him with some sort of weird metallic rod and he felt a sharp pain in his stomach. His vision grew blurry, and the last thing Porter remembered before he passed out was his friends’ faces as they screamed as he was pulled away and dragged out the door.


	3. Ch. 2 - The Voices

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> porter hates the dungeon. hugo hears voices.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you all enjoy, sorry i'm so late on posting this ;-; its been almost a year i'm so sorry

Porter woke up and sat upright, yelling. He was drenched in a cold liquid and shaking violently. He tried to get up, but he was yanked back by a thick set of plasma chains holding him to the wall.

_ Plasma chains?  _ Porter thought. Surely he didn’t need that much restraining. He was just a kid.

He felt rushed and panicked like he needed to get out of the room, but he didn’t know why. Porter took deeper breaths, trying to calm himself down. The room was small and dimly lit. He could barely make out the shape of the door and the walls around him.

_ Where am I? _

Before Porter could put together the fuzzy thoughts in his head, the door slammed open. His eyes burned with the new light and he blinked hard, trying to get used to the brightness. 

_“This is him?”_ A voice whispered. He looked around for the voice. It wasn’t coming from the man at the door. It was someone else in the room. _“Is this the Lionhearted?”_

The voice almost laughed at him, and he felt irritated for no good reason.

“You have the wrong person!” Porter yelled, pulling at the chains. “I’m nobody! I’m just a weak, Lower Class who speaks out too much.”

“Who are you talking to?” The guard at the door asked. “Don’t try any of your magic shit in here, Lionhearted!”

“I’m not the Lionhearted!” Porter yelled at the guard. “It must’ve chosen wrong, or it was an accident.”

_“No, Porter.”_ The first voice was clearer now. _“I didn’t choose anyone. I was brought to existence again through your existence.”_

“Who are- where-?” Porter spluttered, trying to find the owner of the voice.

“Stop that!” The guard looked scared, drawing his energy baton. “The others are gonna be here soon, and you better behave before the questioning!”

_“I am Divinity. I’m your spiritual guide, as all Lionhearted have guides.”_ Porter looked down and realized it was his own fucking hand that was talking to him. The faint purple glow of Divinity showed through the thick plasma bonds. 

“But, I don’t want this? How do I make it stop?” Porter whispered to Divinity. 

Divinity sighed. 

“Lionhearted, I’m gonna give you one more chance and then I’m gonna best you. Stop whispering your voodoo shit!” 

“I’m not the Lionhearted! How many fucking times do I have to tell you!” Porter yelled at the guard. 

“Why you insolent little-“ The guard yelled, reaching for his baton and storming into the cell. 

Porter flinched as he felt the first hit. It didn’t really hurt. Then the second, and the third. They didn’t hurt either. Porter was surprised, as the last time he had been hit by an energy baton he passed out on contact. 

“Is that all you’ve got?” Porter challenged, right as the guard shoved him to his knees and hit him hard in the face, multiple times. 

By the time he was done, Porter’s nose was bleeding and his cheekbones felt broken, although they probably weren’t. Porter didn’t have a high pain tolerance, and was surprised he hadn’t felt pain the first couple of times. Maybe he had too much adrenaline to feel the pain, but he wasn’t sure.

Porter struggled to get up again, but the guard forced him back on his knees. “Stay there.”

“Wes! Enough. Let him be. The Emperor will decide what to do with him.” Another voice interrupted. “His crimes against the Emperor are enough damning evidence. If you fuck up his face too badly then he won’t be able to identify if that’s the boy or not!”

“Right, sir.” Wes said rigidly. He looked at Porter with contempt. 

The owner of the new voice grabbed Porter roughly and forced his face upwards. “You do as I say, or I’ll make sure you don’t breathe again.” 

“Fuck you.” Porter hissed. 

“He’s fucking annoying.” Wes complained. 

“You’ll get your chance to punish him later. Let’s just take the bastard up to Louis.” 

Porter was roughly ripped from the wall and shoved between Wes and the other soldier. The plasma chains were tighter than before and they hurt more than he expected. 

The two Elite soldiers led him up a set of hallways and stairs, winding and finally reaching a set of doors. “You be respectful in here, or you’re done for.” 

Porter rolled his eyes. 

Then the door opened and he felt sick to his stomach. They pushed him into the room and he felt terrified. Emperor Louis Leclercq was sitting on his throne, surrounded by several men, women, and… the boy. 

* * *

 

Hugo Leclercq woke up early, excited for the surprise his father had promised him. Nothing exciting really happened at the castle anyways, hence why he always went to party down in the town. The most exciting night of his life had been only a few days prior, when he had found a rather risque dancing partner. He could tell the other boy was older than him, even with the mask across his face, but he thoroughly enjoyed the fact that he was taller than said boy. 

Hugo was unusually tall for a boy of his age. At 16, Hugo stood at roughly 6 feet tall, and towered above his friends and family, other than his dad. It was part of the reason he didn’t go out much except at night, as people gave him odd looks. Hugo never liked to be looked at strangely, especially by the other Elites. They were so discriminatory and cold that he didn’t really like to be around them for long. They would find out that he was too soft for the cruel Elite life. However, Hugo felt a strong connection between himself and his father, and looked to him for advice in times of trouble. 

Hugo presently looked out his window at the sunrise. It was 3 am, so the sun had barely begun to appear over the dull horizon. Summer days started earlier and earlier each year, and the winter days got shorter and shorter. Hugo wondered what it was like to have a 12 hour day, rather than 20 hour days. It seemed...odd. 

Hugo lay there for a while, thinking. His unruly mop of curly brown hair poked out from the sheets as he lay buried in a nest of blankets. He was very thin and barely took up a third of his massive bed, which could have fit at least 5 other people. Hugo shuddered a little at the thought of having someone else share his space, but then he thought of the boy from the party and blushed a little. He wondered what the boy was doing today, how he looked without that ridiculous mask, and what his uncovered skin felt like… Hugo caught himself before his train of thought went any further. He was never going to meet the boy again, and he wasn’t worth his time fantasizing over. He had important things to do, and he couldn’t be bothered to be turned on by a boy he barely knew. 

He shifted his thoughts to what his father’s surprise could possibly be. It definitely wasn’t a birthday present, as Hugo’s birthday had been only months earlier. Maybe it was a trip somewhere? Hugo lost himself in thinking about all the different places he could travel to within the Empire, but then he remembered that his father never let him travel anywhere, for fear that Hugo would be the object of desire for political groups to influence or capture.

He finally decided to get out of bed, and had barely swung his legs over the edge of his bed, throwing back his silk comforter, when a knock came at the door. 

“Good morning, Prince Hugo.” The familiar voice of his old servant entered the room before the old man did. He had a few strands of white hair that were barely hanging on to his old, leathery head. 

“Good morning, Albert. How are you?” Hugo asked as Albert set out his morning spread on his table by the window. 

“I’m fine.” Albert said. 

“Father doesn’t wish for me to dine with him this morning?” Hugo asked, rather disappointedly. 

“No, I’m afraid not, your excellency. He wanted to spend the morning getting your surprise together.”

“Oh.” Hugo said sadly. “Alright. Thank you Albert.”

“Of course. I’ll be outside if you need anything, sir.”

Albert left, and Hugo climbed out of his bed, grabbing his robe from the chair and sitting down to breakfast next to the window. The dull grey of the Empire was not cheered by the beautiful sunrise that rose over the city. Hugo felt a slow sense of dread rising in his stomach as he looked at the sunrise. He heard there had been an arrest last night. It was apparently one of the perpetrators at the party. Hugo didn’t hear much often. He was sheltered by his father, due to his fear of losing Hugo to an outside force. He heard that the arrest was crucial in stopping the beginning of an uprising. He didn’t want to know about it really. The less he knew, the less his father would worry about him, and he didn’t want his father to have to worry about him when he was taking care of an enormous empire.

Hugo sighed externally and took a deep drink of his morning coffee. It was bitter and tasted horrible. He spit it out almost instantly, disgusted. He didn’t have an appetite after that. 

He decided it was best to be presentable for his father’s surprise, so he took a shower and went to put on one of his best suits. As he went to find his clothes, he felt a soft nagging in the back of his head, which eventually grew until he fell to his knees in his closet. 

_ Stop resisting us, Child of the Sun.  _

Hugo jumped. “Who’s there?”

_ You remember us. _

The voice was familiar...in his native dialect of French, too. 

_ You didn’t listen to us. And you were punished. _

“Oh right. You were the voice that told me to make music.” Hugo mumbled.

_ You have the gift. So does he. The boy. He is important to your destiny. _

“I met a scandalous boy at a party. It doesn’t mean anything. I have no destiny. All I’m gonna be is the Emperor of a stupid Empire. And then my kids after me.” Hugo grumbled, trying to get up to look for his things, but an invisible force kept him on his knees. Almost like the voice could do that. Almost like he wasn’t worthy of standing before it.

_ I don’t know why you resist, Icarus. _

“What did you call me?”

Albert entered his room at that moment. “Who was a what, sir?”

Hugo snapped from his trance and quickly got to his feet. The connection between him and  _ whatever _ was broken. 

“Uhh, nothing. I was asking myself where my things were.”

“Prince Hugo, are you going to be eating at all this morning?”

“No.”

“Is there something wrong, my Prince?”

“Yes, actually. The coffee is disgusting. Is something wrong with the water?”

“My morning tea was fine, but I will send for someone to do a diagnostics of the plumbing. I am deeply sorry for your trouble, my liege.”

“It’s alright Albert, thank you.”

“Of course, sir. I will be back when the Emperor summons for you.”

Albert was about to leave when Hugo suddenly looked up. “Albert, do you know who Icarus is?”

A look of panic crossed Albert’s face. “Wherever you heard that, I highly suggest you forget it. Immediately. Do not tell your father, and please do not bring it up again.”

Hugo looked out at the city under the rosy light of sunrise. Something was wrong.


End file.
